On coffee’s time
I let my heart grow a bit
I speak in paragraphs, I know,
when the world expects a mere portion
I grow impatient with the world
so impatiently interrupting my drawn-out
though-out, plotted-out sentences.
And, so, though the coffee makes
my heart flutter a second faster,
I savor each sip, watch the sunrise,
hoping that with each semi-colon-instead-of-a-period,
each meandering, adjective-packed phrase,
each to-be-edited-later clause
I might slow everything else down, too.